Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds
by xxDark-Elfxx
Summary: Part 1 has a cameo by Rachel, but thankfully she's high. First bits of PucKurt I ever wrote! Rated T for drug use and sexual situations. Consult your doctor before beginning any exercise program.
1. Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds

Puck would like to say he's not sure how it happened.

Thing is, he knows damn well how it happened.

It was not long after the scrimmage with the deaf kids, not long after Finn and Quinn made nice and become everybody's favorite fucking subject. The Cheerios were planning a baby shower, Mercedes and Tina spent time discussing names with Finn in Glee and even Artie had begun carrying things for Quinn. It was disgusting. It was aggravating. It was like a white hot knife being jammed under his ribs every time he saw them together and the only pleasure Puck got anymore was seeing the same feelings of loathing and longing on the faces of Berry and Hummel.

Maybe that's what tipped the scales. It's definitely the only reason the three of them were left alone in the music room after Glee one day. None of them wanted to get caught in the Quinn/Finn baby cloud as it swept everyone from the room. But when Berry sank to a chair, staring pathetically after the golden couple, Puck wasn't thinking about her. He was thinking about the weather. Namely that it was cold now and he had no pools to 'clean' this afternoon to take his mind off things. So it shocked him just a little to hear Hummel snapping his name out like a command.

"Puck." Hummel stood in the doorway, hand on hip, morose Berry in tow. "We're having an brownie and bitch session at my house. You coming?"

"What makes you think I'd be up for your little gayfest, Hummel?" Puck sneered, or tried to anyway, it was hard remembering he didn't give a shit when the dull ache in his chest said otherwise.

Hummel, to his credit, didn't even blink, just smoothed his bangs back and raised an eyebrow. "Because the three of us are the only ones in this god-forsaken pit that aren't falling over ourselves to worship at the altar of Mr. and Mrs. Birth Control Poster Couple and misery does, in fact, love company like a three dollar ho. Besides, I have a sixty-four inch plasma screen and a basement apartment. Now get it in gear."

Puck thought about saying no. Thought about tossing a one-liner over his shoulder and going home to his mother and his sister screaming at each other and spending the night wondering if the baby would look like him. And then a voice that sounded suspiciously like his Granny Esther spoke up in his head and said _"yes, because all your usual behaviors have worked out wonderfully lately. Schmuck." _So Puck shrugged, grabbed his guitar and followed Captain Homo and Shrill Girl out to the parking lot.  
Which was how he got here. Here being the monochromatic basement apartment of Kurt Hummel. More specifically, the couch of said apartment. A white couch. Puck let his head roll to the side and double-checked. Yep, white couch. Blue shirt. Tan stomach. Brown hair.

Puck blinked and let his eyes refocus.

Oh.

Make that a boy on a white couch.

A boy on a white couch with a girl's head in his lap and…oh.

"Dude," Puck started and then stopped, suddenly aware of the amazing way that word sounded. He gave himself a mental shake and tried again. "Hummel."

"Hmm?" The boy on the couch shifted closer and Puck felt Berry's head being transferred to his lap. He looked down and she giggled back up at him, eyes as wide as Miss Pilsbury's.

"Kurt. Are these hash brownies?" Puck tried to frown but he didn't know if he managed it. Everything felt disconnected, like someone had cut the line sending signals from his brain to the rest of his body. The couch shifted again and suddenly there was warmth pressing against his left side.

"Mmm, _picture yourself in a boat on a river, with tangerine trees and marmalade skies_ ." Kurt's laugh was a tinkling of bells, sliding in his ear and down to his stomach, as the smaller boy fell against him, burying his face in Puck's neck and starting to mouth little kisses on it. A voice in Puck's brain tried to pull him back, tried to make him stand up and shout "Get off me, you freaks!" and storm out, but that voice was faint, muffled by the lazy feeling of the brownies and the fact that whatever the other boy was doing, it felt good. And he was tired. Tired of fighting, tired of pretending he was untouchable, tired of walking down the same deadbeat road his father had. So Puck let go, let his head fall back to give Kurt better access, let his hand stroke through Rachel's hair as it spilled across his lap.

Kurt moaned his appreciation and slid forward again, legs straddling Rachel's chest as he began licking and biting his way over Puck's skin. His soft lips followed the line of Puck's jaw down to his chin and hovered over his lips, panting into Puck's open mouth. That voice tried to bubble up again, tried to remind Puck that Kurt was a _guy_ and therefore off limits but Puck reasoned that Kurt didn't really count as a guy, anyway, and leaned forward to seal their lips together.  
Puck heard a high, breathy moan and for one gut-churning moment thought it came from him before he felt weight shifting in his lap and a pair of dark eyes caught his over Kurt's head. Rachel's face was flushed, her hair falling into her face from where his hands had been running through it before, and as he slid his tongue past Kurt's teeth, Puck held her gaze. He heard her sharp intake of air and he somehow _knew _a second before she spoke just what she was thinking.

"That's kinda hot." Her voice was soft, husky, and Puck couldn't help but notice the way her breasts moved as she edged her way closer. He felt slim, sure fingers at his belt and his heart jumped at the realization that he had no idea whose hand they belonged to. Kurt pulled back to breathe, and tugged his shirt off in one easy movement to reveal pale skin wrapped over wiry muscle, a dancer's body, and one Puck found strangely alluring. Rachel apparently thought so too, as she reached out one hand and traced delicate fingers across Kurt's collarbone and down the center of his chest. Kurt smiled at her and stroked her hair back from her face before leaning forward and placing an almost chaste kiss on her upturned mouth. They parted with a sigh, and Puck felt like he was missing something important being said. Kurt turned back to him, blue eyes shining, and a hint of smirk in his smile now.

"Still uninterested in our little gayfest, Noah?" Puck was caught off guard by the use of his given name but recovered quickly.

"I thought you were into guys?" Kurt chuckled, a happy little sound, and tugged on Puck's belt buckle.

"Let's just say I slum it every now and then, and anyhow, I can still appreciate beautiful things, can't I? So what do you say, Noah? You up for it?" With his free hand, Kurt began unbuttoning Rachel's sweater, while his fingers began trailing up and down Puck's burgeoning erection.

Puck drifted in sensation for a minute before making up his mind. Surging forward he wrapped an arm around each of the other's waists and pulled them more firmly into his lap. "The name's Puck. And I'm up for anything." 


	2. Killer Queen

It wasn't the sun streaming onto his face, or the cold sheets around him, or even the smell of bacon frying that woke Puck up. It was the soprano voice singing 'Killer Queen' drifting down the stairwell that finally cut through the after hash lethargy and Puck realized he had to pee. _Now._ He tried to open his eyes and felt them stick together like they only did when he slept in his contacts. He managed to stumble to a bathroom and splash water on his face and take a leak before the unholy amount of hair products on the counter brought the events of last night back like bad Mexican, complete with the churning feeling in his stomach as he climbed the stairs and entered the kitchen…to see Kurt at the stove, breaking eggs one handed and dancing slightly to the radio.

_"To absolutely drive you wi-ild. She's out to get you."_

He must have heard Puck on the steps because he didn't even turn around, just waved him towards the table. "Have a seat, food will be done shortly."

"Where's Berry?" Puck took the chair in front of him, noting the matching silverware and glasses. It figured a fairy like Kurt would have coordinated breakfast dishes.

"Oh, she left earlier. Probably off to write a letter to the Pope about his choice of hymns for Midnight Mass. I think she was a little mad too, she kept muttering something about 'missing the best part', I wasn't listening, really. Scrambled?" Kurt answered over his shoulder as he flipped the bacon.

"Um, over easy." Puck shifted in his chair, trying to ignore the fact that Kurt was wearing his favorite Ramones shirt. Without pants.

"That figures." Kurt snorted. "Did you really want to hear _her_ voice first thing in the morning anyways?"

"I just thought I should say something to her. You know, about last night." Puck wondered if it was different for gay guys. If they got to skip the whole morning after talk, 'cause if so, that was a reason to hop fences right there. Puck hated those talks.

"You mean where she threw up on my rug and passed out? If anyone talks to her about that, it'll be me. That's a hundred dollar shag carpet she ruined just because she can't hold her weed." Kurt sat a plate of perfectly fried eggs in front of Puck and a grapefruit half in front of himself.

"Uh, no. Why would I care about your rug? I meant about the sex thing. Girls usually wanna talk and shit after. These are good. What's the green stuff?" Puck was surprised at how good the food actually was. Cooking must be another gay thing.

"Oregano." Kurt spooned a bite of grapefruit into his mouth. "And she might have stuck around for the 'talk and shit' if you had actually had sex with her."

"What do you mean, 'if I had sex with her'? I may have been higher then a kite last night but I'm pretty sure I remember sticking my dick in something tight and hot." Tight and hot and velvety smooth, like no other woman he'd been with and Puck now had jerk off material for the whole winter.

"That's because you did." The coffee machine beeped its readiness and Kurt rose to get it.

"Well then who the hell did I…oh." Puck dropped his fork and sat back as more memories rose. The feel of sharp hipbones and a flat chest and strong legs wrapped around his waist as he sunk into a willing body over and over and…

"Was it good for you?" Kurt whispered in his ear before circling to fill his cup.

"Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck." Puck whispered back, shame flooding his body.

"Mm, maybe later. I'm a bit sore this morning. You're bigger then I thought. Coffee?" Kurt smoothed back his bangs and rested his hand on his hip, waving the coffee pot in the air. Puck turned to look at him and noticed a bite mark on Kurt's shoulder. _Puck's_ bite mark. Shame left him as something else entirely flooded him with heat.

"Fuck."

Kurt sighed. "No means no. All I'm offering is coffee right now." He took the initiative and poured the liquid into the jock's mug. Puck continued to stare at him as he took his seat again and resumed eating. A few tense seconds passed before Kurt sighed again and rested his elbows on the table, folding his hands under his chin. "I'm giving you fifteen minutes to freak out before I have to get ready for school. My flawless fashion sense may be a gift but the actual appearance takes effort."

"We had sex." Puck stated in a disbelieving tone.

"Yes, we had sex. Rather good sex, too, if I say so myself. Not that I have much to compare it to." Kurt produced a nail file from somewhere and began inspecting his right hand.

"You and I. Had sex. With each other." Puck said the words again so he could hear how they sounded. There was no earthquake, no line of people he knew waiting to kick his teeth in, no army of angels descending to drag his horny teenaged ass to hell in a rainbow hand basket. Huh. Maybe being less than straight wasn't that big a deal. At least the sex was good. And as a bonus, Kurt could cook and wasn't making him have the Oh-My-God-You-Deflowered-Me-We're-Meant-To-Be-Never-Leave-Me-The-Wedding's-In-June-And-We're-Naming-The-First-Kid-Ernestine Talk. Come to think of it, being gay _rocked._

Kurt cleared his throat and Puck was surprised to notice the smaller boy had somehow come to stand next to him. "Are you going to finish your freakout sometime soon because if you decide to punch me, I'll need extra time to cover the bruises with make-up."

Puck grinned and pulled Kurt into his lap, taking a special pride in the squeak Kurt made as he landed. "What the hell are you doing?"

Puck slid his hands under Kurt's stolen tee and squeezed. "I'm repressing. It's kinda fun, actually. Now about that fuck?"

A half hour later found the dishes on the floor, a grapefruit peel hanging from the light fixture, and Kurt draped over top of Puck as they both came down from their orgasms.

"If that's how you repress, God help me if you ever decide to out yourself. You'd probably have me on my knees in Sylvester's office."

"Nah. If I wanted to out us, I'd just pull you into Figgins' office, hit the intercom button, and fuck you till you hit that high F."

_End  
_


End file.
